


will we burn in heaven like we do here

by leiascully



Series: New York AU [11]
Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-11
Updated: 2010-04-11
Packaged: 2017-10-09 06:38:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This love, if he can believe it, is destined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	will we burn in heaven like we do here

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: after "I know when a good thing is gone"  
> A/N: Kara comes out of the studio. Velcro is a trademark, so I should have capitalized it. Title is from a Sarah McLachlan song. This is for [**eugie**](http://eugie.livejournal.com/) and [**rayruz**](http://rayruz.livejournal.com/).  
> Disclaimer: _Battlestar Galactica_ and all related characters belong to Ronald Moore, NBC Universal, Sci-Fi Channel, and Sky One. No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

After two hours or so, Lee does order takeout. He's starving, so hungry he feels hollow inside, but there's no way he's leaving the apartment before Kara comes out of the studio. Sam's bizarre fairy tale about robots and space and countless lifetimes of suffering and blinding joy struck a chord, but an exhausting chord. It's all Lee can do to get himself another beer, to pick up the phone and order Chinese food. He over-orders flagrantly, picking six or seven dishes at random, plus egg rolls and egg drop soup. Hell, why not? He and Kara missed brunch, after all, derailed by Sam's return, and the ludicrous, emotional rollercoaster of a day has left Lee wrung out: he's been horny, hopeful, furious, devastated, furious again, incredulous, numb, wistful, hopeful again, and finally just dog-tired. He shakes his head at the phrase - it's something his father would say. He wonders what his father would say to all of this and shakes his head again.

He needs a drink. He looks down at the bottle in his hand. Another drink, then.

Lee cracks open another beer and flips on the television, waiting for the takeout guy. He needs some noise to buffer him against his thoughts. There's still the occasional crashing noise from the studio. Lee's not going to push Kara. He tugs on the window blinds and looks out at the scenic alleyway, blinking against the shafts of light. He would have thought it would be dark by now, but it's barely mid-afternoon. Almost happy hour. Lee presses his forehead to the glass and thinks. So he accepts the story, since he can't ignore the way it feels true on some deep level he can't identify: then this conversation, Sam showing up, was destined. This love, if he can believe it, is destined, or maybe that's the buzz of alcohol in his empty stomach.

Still, it feels real.

"All of this has happened before," he murmurs to himself. The glass vibrates against the bones of his skull, the city noise pulsing through him. So he and Sam have been rivals for thousands of years. In his exhausted, love-drunk, famished state it all seems to make sense. He's almost astounded that everything lined up again this time. Out of the billions of people on the planet, they're all here now. Or do they clash every time? Do they wage a private three-way war every life? Have he and Sam fight in bars without knowing why?

Suddenly he's glad not to face the burden of remembering the way that Sam does. What a twisted life they've led. His mind is heavy enough with the little he does know. He's never been religious; he's not sure if this is more like heaven or hell. Hell for Sam, he thinks. Maybe heaven for himself, if things work out.

The doorbell buzzes and startles him. He smacks his forehead on the glass and goes downstairs to pay the delivery guy, who turns out to be a delivery gal - he makes sure to tip her well, since he looks like a raving lunatic with his nice shirt and trousers crumpled and a big red mark on his forehead where it rested on and then hit the window. He has to cradle the enormous bag of food in both arms, struggling to get it upstairs; no doubt it's leaving see-through stains on his button-down. He gets the bag safely onto Kara's kitchen counter and goes into her room, rummaging for a pair of sweatpants he left there. Her t-shirts are too small on him, but he tugs one on anyway. It proclaims her to be a member of a youth soccer league he's pretty sure she's never even heard of. It's also so thin that it's nearly transparent, but he's not going anywhere. He kicks his dress clothes into a heap, too tired to hang them up the way he usually does, and pads out into the living room.

"K? Um, Kara?" he calls through the studio door. "Food. If you want." The sound of something smashing against the door convinces him that she's not quite that hungry yet. He shrugs to himself and opens all of the containers, leaning over the counter and sampling from each. Two days ago it was Kara sitting here instead of a heap of takeout containers, her head thrown back laughing as he kissed her hip and tried to take off her underwear with his teeth, tugging at the elastic. God, he wanted that to be happening right now.

He rips open a packet and drips soy sauce into the egg drop soup, stirring rice and kung pao chicken together with a pair of cheap bamboo chopsticks and biting off half an egg roll. It's a bite of this and a bite of that until he's sated, having scalded his tongue on the hot soup. The containers are half empty, and he's so full that it it almost hurts, and inevitably, the next thing he does is fall asleep on the sofa, face in the pillows, while the tv chatters at him about America's Next Top Model.

When he wakes up, it's dark, and Kara's staring at him. She's still wearing the white dress, but she's smudged and mussed and splattered with paint. Somehow she looks even prettier. She's got a mouthful of lo mein noodles that makes it look like she's grown a weird short beard. She slurps them into her mouth as he rolls over.

"I can see your nipples through that shirt," she says conversationally.

"Was all I could find," he mumbles.

"Kinda hot," she says.

"Are you okay?" he asks, pushing himself up.

She sucks a piece of green onion off her chopstick in a thoughtful way. "I'm pissed."

"Ah."

"Nuclear levels, probably." She digs into the noodles again.

"At me?" he hazards.

"At everyone," she says firmly. "Especially my _fucking_ husband. Not for long, though." She shovels another bite into her mouth. "I mean, he won't be my husband for long," she says through the mouthful of noodles. "Good goddamn riddance."

"Kara..." Lee started.

"Shut up and take your clothes off," she said. "My clothes. What-the-fuck-ever." She snapped her fingers. "Skin 'em."

"I thought you were mad at me," he says, tugging off her shirt, which gets stuck on his head for a moment.

"I am," she says, leaning forward and raking her nails down his back as she whispers in his ear. "I'm furious at Sam and I'm furious at you and I'm tired of smashing shit, so instead I'm gonna fuck you stupid, and then we'll go from there."

Lee blinks at her. "You're going to use me for revenge sex?"

"You have an objection suddenly?" Kara snaps.

"We need to work this out, Starbuck," he says gently, hoping the nickname will snap her out of it.

"Nothing to work out," she says, still digging into the noodles. "You and I are star-crossed, Sammy used to be a cyborg or some shit, once upon a time I flew planes instead of slinging paint, and the world ended. Worlds. Every goddamn world there was. Probably had a hand in that." She pops the lid off the second soup and swigs down half the cup. "So you wanna fuck or you wanna talk?"

"We can't do both?" Lee asks, trying to be charming.

Kara looks him up and down and snorts. She stuffs an eggroll in her mouth. "Mmmph."

"What?"

She swallows. "Maybe. Later. I was planning on riding you so hard you couldn't speak."

"Oh," he says. The words have gone straight to his cock, bypassing his brain entirely.

Kara smirks. "Right now I just wanna get the lead out. You can be there or I can fly solo, I don't give a damn. The way I see it, you might as well come." She waggles her eyebrows, unzips her dress, and steps out of it. She's not wearing a bra, and she strips off her underwear with negligent grace. There's a challenge in her eyes.

Lee gives in, like he's sure he's done a thousand times before. His cock is already tenting her sweatpants, and it's a good thing she wears them baggy, because otherwise, this would hurt. She's in his arms before he can breathe again, digging her nails into his back, nipping at his lips, grinding her hips against his groin as he holds onto her with one hand and shoves down the sweatpants with the other. He lifts her onto the stool and she braces herself with one hand against the counter and wraps her legs around him.

"What are you waiting for, Apollo?" she teases. He's so close he can feel waves of heat off her cunt, and he's shivering with urgency. When he rubs his thumb over her clit, she's so slick he groans in anticipation.

"I love you," he says, because he has to, she has to understand, and she just narrows her eyes at him a little and grabs his cock. Her legs press him forward until his head is nudging her entrance and then he can't help himself, he's thrusting into her. God, she's everything he ever wanted: the way she moves around him, the hot wet heaven of her cunt, the noises she makes, the way she stares into his eyes while he's pushing inside her, the electric shock of their connection.

The stool's rocking and it's too unsteady. Lee pulls out of Kara and scoops her up, carrying her to the bedroom and dumping her on the bed. She kneels on the mattress, grabs his arm, and drags him down. He lands on his shoulder and she rolls him onto his back, draping herself over him, kissing him. She reaches down beside the bed and has a cuff around his wrist before he knows it.

"Kara!"

She's too quick and cuffs his other wrist, so he's spread-eagled on the bed, lying at her mercy. He grabs her hips between his knees.

"Relax, Leland," she drawls. "Just wanted to make sure you weren't going anywhere."

"Kara, I will never leave you," he promises, making the words as fervent as he can. "Never. Nothing's going to keep us apart. Not Sam, not time, not anything."

"Call it insurance," she teases, but her eyes are soft when she leans down to kiss him. Her body's still wound so tight she's shaking, though, and he eases off the pressure of his thighs around her hips and lets her climb on top of him, sinking down with an expression of perfect bliss. She shifts and they both gasp.

"Baby," he groans, his brain already liquefied.

"Yeah," she says, and rocks back and forth. It's hot in the room and they're both sweating already. Her skin slides against his and holy lord, if he's going to hell for fucking a married woman, he wouldn't care even if he believed.

"Nothing is as right as this," he pants. He wants to hold her against him but he can't move his arms or sit up. She looks like a goddess, riding him, like the sun coming up, like the dawn breaking. The light gleams off her hair.

"Damn straight," she grits out. Her body's quivering around him - she's always known how to get what she wants. She braces one hand in the center of his chest but it slips and she catches herself with her mouth on his mouth, a bruising, urgent kiss.

"You're mine," she whispers.

"Yes," he agrees. "Yes, yes, yes, oh god."

"Wait for me, you bastard," she says, and grinds down on him, and yelps her exultation.

"Oh, Kara," Lee says.

"Fuck me," she swears. The words have edges but she smiles at him as she eases off.

"Gonna undo these?" Lee asks. He kisses her ear as she curls up next to him.

"Maybe," she says with her eyes closed.

"Kara!"

She opens her eyes and rolls them at him, then reaches across and rips the velcro open on one cuff. Lee retrieves his hand, frees the other one, and massages his wrists gently.

"Don't be a baby, Apollo," Kara mumbles, face planted in the pillows.

"Give a guy some warning next time," he tells her.

"Hah." She burrows further into the pillows. "Lff oo."

"What?" Lee shakes his head. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"You know what I said," she says, rearing up and glaring at him. "I'm not gonna say it again."

"Kara Thrace loves Lee Adama," he says softly. "Well how about that."

"Shut up or you get the cuffs again." She flops back down onto the pillows.

"Yes, Mistress," he teases, and drags her into his arms. They both fall asleep smiling.


End file.
